by Janet Rising
Back at the horse trailer, we waited around miserably for James to return. I didn’t see how he could stop Cat from lodging an objection. Around us, the show went on—horses left the trailer park for their events, ponies returned with riders who were either euphoric or downcast, grooms rode in their charges.
Suddenly, James was back, breathless and red in the face from running.
“Get saddled up!” he shouted. “We’re due in the ring any time now!”
“What?” We all gaped at him, unable to take in the significance of his words.
“Come on—we’re still in the competition, and they’re due to announce the winners at any moment!”
A wave of relief washed over me. James had done it—I didn’t care how. Hastily, we bridled the ponies, and Dee helped me into her showing outfit—I’d forgotten my jacket and hat, only packing my wild card getup.
“But what about Cat?” asked Katy.
“It’s all sorted out,” James said dismissively, vaulting into Moth’s saddle and cantering off in the direction of the main ring.
“Who cares about the whys and hows?!” shouted Katy. “Let’s go!”
Having abandoned the scoreboard in despair when Cat had appeared, we had no idea where the Great Eight were placed. All the teams milled around the entrance to the main ring and the Sublime Equine promo girls were putting the teams in order as the commentator was telling the crowd about the Sublime Equine bigwigs who were presenting the prizes. The managing director of Sublime Equine, a woman in a lime-green suit and an expensive-looking hairdo, struggled onto the grass with a huge trophy.
“First place in the Sublime Equine Challenge goes to…” boomed the voice on the loudspeaker.
We knew it wasn’t us. We’d worked that much out at the scoreboard.
“Team Stapleford Stables!” Stapleford Stables were so good. Three members of their team had won their events—pretty impressive and impossible to beat. They rode into the arena to thunderous applause.
“Which team are you?” asked a Sublime Equine promo girl.
“The Great Eight,” Katy replied. “Have we placed anywhere?”
The girl examined her clipboard. “Don’t you know? Er, let me see. The Great Eight…can’t see you on here…”
That doesn’t sound promising, I thought with a sinking heart.
The loudspeaker drowned out the promo girl. “Second place goes to the Great Eight, James Beecham on Gypsy Moth, Charlotte Beanie on Tiffany….”
The whole world seemed to stop. I looked at my fellow teammates, and they looked back at me. I don’t think any one of us had our mouths closed.
“Come on, hurry up!” said the Sublime Equine promo girl, shooing us along the famous Brookdale tunnel I’d seen on TV and into the ring.
Riding Drummer in the famous arena, flanked by James and Moth, Bean and Tiffany, and Katy and Bluey, I knew what it felt like to win an Olympic medal—I couldn’t have felt happier or more proud of our team. Everyone cheered and clapped. We heard our names over the loudspeaker, and I thought this was the most amazing moment of my whole life. Drummer took it all in stride, of course, but Bluey felt like me. I could hear him being all proud and excited. We had to box Tiffany in because of all the jumps, and officials and photographers were making her freak. Moth was her usual, silent, trembly self.
We weren’t. We hugged one another, and pointed out people in the crowd—I could see Dad and Skinny Lynny actually in the tunnel (so I supposed wearing jodhpurs had its advantages—the organizers had obviously mistaken Lyn for a competitor!).
The ribbons were huge! We got two each—a second prize one, and an orange and lime finalist one. With one on either side of his bridle, I could hear Drum complaining that he felt like a blinkered cart horse.
But that wasn’t all. After the team prize giving (and we all won finalist certificates for Sublime Equine outfits, as well as one hundred dollars in cash each!), the announcer called out the winners of each individual event. I wasn’t really listening—I was busy looking around to see if I could spot Mom in the crowd—so when James gave me a shove, I was just about to shove him back when I felt everyone looking in my direction. Something, it seemed, was expected of me.
“That’s you!” hissed James.
“What is?” I said, being stupid.
“You’ve won the wild card event!” shouted Bean.
“You and Drum have prevented Team Stapleford Stables from cleaning up in every event!” James told me.
“Go on! Go and get your prize!” said Katy.
I steered Drummer forward so that the managing director of Sublime Equine could present me with another huge ribbon, a trophy, and another check for one hundred dollars. I couldn’t believe it—especially when they got to the best bit, a fabulous blue Brookdale sash, which was like the Holy Grail to me. My face hurt, I was grinning so much.
When we all galloped around the vast arena on our lap of honor with the crowd’s applause ringing in our ears, it was a moment I knew I’d remember for the rest of my life. And when Drummer kicked out a huge buck, I laughed and patted him in thanks for a job well done. My pony was such a star, and I was determined that he’d never feel unappreciated again. The Sublime Equine Challenge had been the most fantastic fun—but the fact that we’d learned more about our relationships with our ponies was worth more than the huge ribbons, more than the prize money, even my coveted sash—although they were fabulous, too! It was a fairy-tale ending to our challenge—perhaps karma had worked for us after all.
Somewhere in the back of my mind was the niggling question of how James had persuaded Cat not to lodge an objection against me. I couldn’t imagine what he could have said to stop her, but right then I didn’t care. Whatever he’d said, it was worth it, I thought. No one could take away this fabulous feeling I was experiencing in the Brookdale main arena. I just wished I could have put out of my mind the image of poor India when she realized her dream had ended through no fault of her own, and the toe-curling feeling that the rift between me and Cat had gone beyond any point of repair.
Chapter 22
Thanks, Drum, I love you so much,” I whispered into one of Drum’s furry, black-tipped ears as we stood in the field at home.
“Mmmm.” Drummer snorted, his black mane still curled and fluffy from the braids. “I think I’ve had enough appreciation for one day. It’s been death-by-hugging ever since we got those huge, poofy blobs that pass for ribbons slapped on either side of me. I felt claustrophobic!”
“Oh, you loved it really!” I said, hugging him again. “And it’s all over now.”
“Does that mean I’ll be treated with a bit more respect? I mean”—he glared at me—“no more bells?”
I laughed. “OK, no more bells. I promise!”
Drum sank to his knees, sighing with the effort of rolling right over and getting both sides good and dusty. Rising with a grunt, a shake began at his head, rippling all the way through his body to his tail, the dust wafting off him in a cloud. I watched as he wandered over to the water trough for a long drink before settling down with the others in an all-night grass-munching session. I had the best pony in the whole world—bar none.
Unpinning Epona from my pocket, I took her out and looked at her, rubbing the spot where her nose used to be.
“Thanks for your help, Epona,” I whispered. Without her, I would never be able to hear Drum and the other ponies. She was worth all the trouble that always seemed to come with her.
Back at the yard, Bean was showing Mrs. Collins her ribbons, Katy was mucking out her stable, and James was lolling around on a bench outside the tack room, stroking Swish. He seemed a bit quiet after all the highs and lows of the day.
“I suppose that’s the end of the Great Eight,” declared Katy, throwing dirty straw into the wheelbarrow.
“We were pretty great, after all!” mused James.
“The ponies were,” I corrected him.
“Oh, yes, the ponies were just amazing!” agreed Bean, locking
her tack box. “Especially mine!”
Mrs. Collins flip-flopped back to the house in her slippers, scooping up Twiddles-scissor-paws with her on the way.
“We have to take some of the credit, though,” said Katy, shoving her fork into the barrow and pushing it out of her stable. “I mean, we overcame our problems and our doubts, and we did wonderfully.”
“You mean you bullied us into it!” Bean reminded her.
“Yes, Katy, you’d make an awesome sports coach.” James yawned.
“That’s right, Katy, you have to take some credit, too,” I said. The sight of James yawning had made me suddenly very tired. We’d been up for hours and hours, and now the excitement had died down, I suddenly felt like I could sleep for a week. I felt deliriously happy and content—this was definitely going in my diary as one of my best-ever days. I couldn’t wait to display my Brookdale sash in my bedroom, next to Drummer’s ribbons. I still couldn’t believe we’d won it. There was just one thing that had spoiled everyone’s day.
“I still don’t get it about the Dweeb,” mused Bean.
I saw James roll his eyes. Unfortunately, so did Bean.
“Don’t do that, James. How did India’s mom pass Platinum Bell off for the Dweeb? We all had to show our ponies’ passports at Brookdale.”
“She’s right,” said Katy.
I shrugged. “She must have forged the passport.”
“Or Platinum Bell was passed off as another pony by India’s mom before passports came into force,” suggested James. “She’s not exactly young.”
“What’s India’s mom’s age got to do with it?” asked Bean.
“No, Platinum Bell’s not exactly young,” I explained.
“Of course!” said Katy. “I bet India’s mom wasn’t the first person to profit from the deception—although she obviously knew about it.”
“I still don’t understand it,” I said. “I know she wanted India to win, but what a dreadful way to do it! And do you know what?”
“What?” said Bean.
“I know it was unfair of Platinum Bell to be in the competition, but somehow it still feels unfair that poor India was disqualified—along with her whole team. I mean, she didn’t know.”
“I know what you mean,” agreed Katy. “I wanted to beat Team SLIC fair and square, not have them taken out of the competition. It’s awkward.”
“And it’s going to get worse, seeing Leanne and Cat here every day,” Bean pointed out.
“That’s true,” James agreed, stroking Swish behind his ear. Swish’s hind leg thumped the ground—James obviously knew the exact spot to tickle.
“I still want to know what you said to Cat, James,” said Katy.
“Don’t ask.” James groaned. “She was really upset—the whole team was crushed. You can’t blame them.”
“So what did you say to her?” asked Katy. She wasn’t going to let it go.
“I just asked her,” said James.
“Well, we asked her. She didn’t do it for us,” said Bean.
James shrugged. He seemed suddenly very interested in Swish’s collar. “I just asked her,” he repeated quietly.
Suddenly, I didn’t want to know how James had persuaded Cat.
“You asked her out!” Katy exploded, the words piercing my heart. “You know Cat likes you!” Katy went on, her words digging deeper and deeper into my soul. “You did a deal!”
Bean stood openmouthed, looking from Katy to James. There was no doubt that Katy had guessed the truth. James didn’t deny it.
Because of me James was going out with Catriona.
Because of me…
“Shhh!” hissed James as Dee returned from turning Dolly out for the night.
“I told you, didn’t I?” Dee said, oblivious to the atmosphere on the yard.
“Told us what?” said James quickly, obviously relieved at the change of subject.
“I told you Granddad would help us. And he did!”
“Are you serious?” said Bean, astonished.
“Yeah, good old Granddad. I knew he’d come through. You have him to thank for your Brookdale success! Oh, and me, of course!”
Four of the Great Eight exchanged glances.
“Get her!” yelled James, leaping up and grabbing Dee, pinning her arms to her sides.
“Get off me!” Dee shrieked, kicking out as James lifted her clean off the ground.
Katy grabbed one leg, Bean the other, and I helped James at the heavy end as we carried Dee, kicking and screaming, to the field.
“Whatever are you doing?” shouted Sophie, looking over Lester’s half door. Lester’s liver chestnut ears were twitching at the racket, and he backed into his stable, snorting.
“Just going to dump her in the trough!” said James, without breaking pace, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Oh,” said Sophie. “Do it quickly, will you? You’re upsetting Lester.”
Dee’s mom is so weird, you just never know which way she’s going to go.
“No!” screamed Dee. “I’m warning you, don’t you dare, dare, put me in the trough…Mom…help!”
“We’ll teach you,” muttered James.
“Yes, Dee, give the ponies some credit!” demanded Katy.
“And us!” added Bean, grimly hanging on to Dee’s thrashing right leg.
“We,” I said as we dropped Dee into the water, “are the Great Eight! And don’t you forget it!”
Dee gasped as she hit the cold water, and she thrashed about, making herself even wetter. “I’m so going to get you all for this!” she spluttered furiously.
The ponies all lifted their heads and stared—except Tiffany: she took off down the field at a gallop, giving us a view of her tail.
“Oh, that’s nice,” said Drummer. “How would you like us to come and dunk ourselves in your drinking water?”
“We’ll clean it out,” I assured him, a mass of emotions whirling around my head and my heart.
Because of me, Cat was James’s girlfriend.
It seemed that Cat had her own victory after all.
Also Available
I had hoped that a carefree Saturday morning ride would push my latest problem to the back of my mind for a while. And in a way, it turned out like that because by the time Drummer and I got back, I had a whole new bunch of things to worry about. “It’s so lush here,” he wailed, looking around at all the emerald blades waving in the breeze by the side of the newly ploughed field, “and it’s just going to waste.” I pretended I couldn’t hear him. If I could keep it up, he might think I’d left Epona behind. He knows that without her I’m just like everybody else; I can’t hear an equine word.
“It will be winter soon,” he went on, “and there’ll be no good grass left. Everyone knows you should let ponies build up fat reserves for the coming lean months. I’m surprised you don’t know that. You think you know lots about pony management. Obviously, you don’t know as much as you think.”
He was trying to rile me, and it was starting to work. My bright bay pony knows exactly which of my buttons to push to get a reaction. I squeezed his sides, and Drum broke into a trot with a theatrical sigh about leaving the grass. I wouldn’t mind, but he’s already bordering on the tubby side.
Since I’d gone back to school after summer vacation, my riding had been limited to weekends and evenings. With the days getting shorter, evening riding meant everyone jostling for space in the floodlit outdoor school, so that Saturday, it was great to ride in open spaces for a change. We cantered around the field then turned into the woods, Drummer’s hoofbeats silent on the moss. Red and golden leaves fluttered unhurriedly to the ground, and there was a damp autumn smell heralding bleak days to come.
And that’s when the first odd thing occurred.
Suddenly, Drummer froze to a halt, shooting me forward. Luckily, as he did so, his head shot right up like a giraffe’s, keeping me in the saddle. Following the direction of his ears I could see his gaze fixed on something moving
through the trees, and I squinted in the same direction, expecting to see a deer. The woods are riddled with them, and Drummer always overreacts. You’d think they were stegosauruses or something.
It wasn’t a deer (or a stegosaurus). It was a pony. An unfamiliar, dark gray—almost black—pony, its black mane and tail laced with white highlights that glinted silver in shafts of sunlight twinkling through the branches. Catching my breath, I watched as it moved through the trees.
The pony wasn’t alone. A girl sat astride the bare, black back. She wore no hat and her long, black hair fanned out behind her as her pony cantered and hopped over fallen branches, the pair fused together as though glued. And then I noticed the dog running alongside; a large, leggy hound, like a squire to a knight, keeping his nose level with the girl’s toes, matching the pony stride for stride.
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as the trio disappeared in the gloom. Involuntarily, I shivered. Then I realized that I wasn’t the only one holding my breath.
“That’s spooky!” exclaimed Drummer, his breath coming out in a whooh, my legs rising against his sides as he exhaled.
“You don’t think...” I trailed off, reluctant to put my thoughts into words. The trio had been so strange and had moved so silently. I so didn’t want to use the word ghost.
The whole area around Laurel Farm stables, the stable where I keep Drummer, is rich in history and atmosphere. Since Roman times it had been the location of settlements and mansions, taking advantage of the high ground. Drummer’s stable yard used to be a farm for a huge country house that no longer exists. It was that history that had given me Epona and changed my life.
I couldn’t help thinking that the mysterious rider and her pony and dog certainly looked as though they belonged to a bygone age. I mean, whoever nowadays goes riding without a hat?